Why I Hate George Bush Intercontinental Airport

I’m back in the neocon shitcan known as George Bush Intercontinental Airport (IAH). And the only reason I have once again subjected myself to this torment is that it is difficult to fly into the more favorable Houston Hobby from Detroit Metropolitan Airport because of the limited flight choices and lack of non-stop flights. I write this as I sit here waiting for my slightly delayed flight back to Detroit.

People, including locals, have asked me why I think this place is so bad. But you see, the locals never have to rent a car here. Before you even get to fighting the mosh pit of the rental car domain, there’s the overall problems with the airport itself.

The layout of this hole makes human body flow near impossible. The airport flows human cholesterol such that all traffic patterns eventually lead to one tiny spot where we all mush together like sardines, and then it is there that the entirety of airport humanity embarks upon their individualistic zig-zag patterns of total confusion as travelers have no idea whatsoever as to which way they need to go. Every single people-flow pattern is designed like a construction zone on the I-75 freeway wherein four lanes quickly become one lane, and then that one lane crosses to the other side of the freeway. The zipper merge is alive and well here at IAH. It’s one giant construction zone. Bush Crime Family: The... Saint John Hunt, Roger... Best Price: $3.40 Buy New $5.99 (as of 05:30 UTC - Details)

The escalators to get to baggage claim takes multiple flows of humanity, from five different directions, onto one skinny, little escalator. Whereas airports like Atlanta, and even Detroit, have a whole swath of wide escalators stretching across the way, this airport has chosen to treat its customers to a convergence of one skinny elevator suitable for a small child with no luggage. So, the NASCAR bump-and-run is the winning tactic to get yourself a place on that escalator.

To get outside to pick up a shuttle to the rental car center requires crossing a busy street while dodging ground transportation vehicles to get across the road to reach a very narrow sidewalk where hundreds of people are crammed together, seemingly waiting for these shuttle busses that are crisscrossing all over the place. No one knows where they are supposed to be, or what bus is what, and the skinny sidewalk can’t possibly contain the crowd size. Don’t dare to think that you can pull your suitcase next to you, because there’s not nearly enough room to pull one of them, let alone a suitcase and a carry on. I had to pretend I was the entire 2024 Detroit Lions offensive line and I just opened up random holes in the defense to plow through with a total lack of restraint. No one will move because they have nowhere to go. The whole thing makes me wanna holler to bring back the 6-foot social distancing rules. I’ve discovered that I can no longer fake-cough my way into having people part the Red Sea in front of me because no one is afraid of people coughing anymore.

Once I bulldozed through this crowd of belligerent and lost souls, I ended up in what I thought was the shuttle bus line. The shuttle bus line was completely intertwined with the charter bus line, so I mistakenly waited in the charter bus line for fifteen minutes, not knowing I was going to end up on a charter bus that went to a Vinyl Siding Convention at some nearby convention center. I don’t need vinyl siding and I wouldn’t fit in with those people anyway.

Once I was in what appeared to be the right shuttle line, we waited and waited and waited as every bus was full up, thereby pulling away and leaving behind hundreds of annoyed people. Once I finally got on the packed-to-the-gills shuttle bus, that bus couldn’t merge into the traffic of ground transportation because, yes, all traffic merged into one lane almost as skinny as the airport escalators. So, we sat there for 7-8 minutes, not moving. The driver was too polite to just jam on the accelerator and cut people off.

Besides all of the poor traffic flows and the lackluster planning for getting to the rental car zone, the airport is mostly dingy and uninspiring, and the bathrooms were too tiny to accommodate the sheer number of nearby gates and people volume. On the return flight home, the ladies’ room had a half-mile-long line because three out of the seven toilets were unusable due to a previous lack of flushing or an excess of toilet paper overflow.  Hartfield-Jackson Airport in Atlanta always has restroom attendants who keep things spotless and well-supplied.

Oh, and make sure you follow Terminal A for Delta Airlines, but don’t really follow terminal A because half of that Terminal A is really on a different path of the rest of Terminal A, on the other side of Ticketing/Check-In. But don’t let it confuse you. I didn’t see any moving walkways, either, at least in that terminal.

Once you get to the gate of your destiny at the end of Terminal A, do not sit at the charging station because the tabletop is not wide enough to accommodate a 13” MacBook Air, let alone a full-size laptop. But it can fully accommodate a medium-size Starbucks coffee cup that may need to be charged. And there is one chair for a space at the charging station that accommodates six people. And then everyone was complaining that only two out of the six outlets were actually working, so they were taking turns charging phones. Warmonger: How Clinton... Kuzmarov, Jeremy Best Price: $9.87 Buy New $22.42 (as of 07:47 UTC - Details)

I looked up an article from KHOU 11 television in Houston that stated George H.W. Bush’s legacy lives on in the airport named after him. There’s a statue of Bush in Terminal C that, apparently, has not been toppled by the throngs of so-called peaceful protestors and government entities that have been erasing history for the reasons that white-guy statues always and everywhere represent “institutional racism.”

So, a Christopher Columbus statue in Boston was beheaded in 2020, but a statue of a silver-spoon, ultra-privileged white guy who was the leader of an established American crime family; head of the CIA; a war hawk; and a guy whose lips couldn’t be read through his one-term presidential lies, has his 8-foot bronze legacy enshrined in a crappy airport under the title “Winds of Change.” It’s more like the Winds of Tyranny if you ask me.

Now put a statue of General Robert E. Lee in Terminal A, and I might even tolerate dodging the ground transportation vehicles, getting pushed off the narrow sidewalks, and packing onto the skinny escalators in order to wave to Mr. Lee on my way back to Detroit.